


Let Us Give Life To Our Marriage

by slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Flashbacks, Ichatrina, Mild Sexual Content, Nervous Ichabod, Pittura Infamante, Spoilers, Unresolved Tension, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl/pseuds/slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod takes Katrina on a date, they hit a snag, then make a decision. Just an idea from the spoilers of the upcoming episode entitled Pittura Infamante(2x13).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Us Give Life To Our Marriage

Deep breaths. That was what she kept telling herself as she gazed into the bathroom mirror. Deep, deep breaths.

"Everything will be fine. He's going to like it." She glanced down her dress clad form inspecting herself for any flaws in the material. "He will."

The night before, Ichabod had arrived at the cabin and knocked at its door, nearly frightening her to death. The late hour had found her immersed in her readings on how to perform the ritual she'd need to free Abraham.

After gathering her wits she'd opened the door to his nervous shifting.

_"May I come in"?"_

_With a frown, she stepped aside to allow him entrance and watched as he made his way into the room, stopping at the table before gripping the back of a chair in one hand. At catching sight of his out of sorts look, her thoughts began to run wild. "Is everything alright? Did something happen? Are you hurt?"_

_His eyes shot to hers. "No," he quickly responded with a shake of his head. "I-I simply wished to speak with you."_

_More confused than she had been in recent memory, but still pleased that he was here, she gave a small smile. "Alright."_

_They stood in silence for a moment as a nervous swallow and a few darting glances passed in her direction before he finally spoke._

_"I'm attending a Soiree at the Historical Museum tomorrow and was wondering if-well, what I mean to say is that...it might be informative for us both to attend."_

_His stuttering combined with the uncomfortable twitching of his fingers as he looked anywhere but at her had her smile widening more with every word that left his mouth. When she didn't respond, he shifted uncomfortably, his gaze on her boots._

_"If you already have plans, I understand. I simply-"_

_She laid a hand over his that was tightly clutching the chair, prompting his gaze to shoot to hers."I would love to attend with you."_

_"You-you would?" he asked seemingly more than slightly surprised._

_"Yes," she laughed lightly before raising her brow. "For the information, of course."_

_A small grin lit his face as his eyes fell to her hand which was still resting over his. "Of course." After a moment had passed, he continued, "Well, I suppose I should take my leave." He began moving toward the door with a chuckle. "I have two hundred years of reading to catch up on."_

_Gaze following him as he brushed past her, she whispered, "You don't have to leave." His steps paused, giving her the opportunity to move closer to him. "You could stay here...with me."_

_A heavy sigh fell from him. "Small steps, remember?"_

_Quickly searching for a response, she moved in front of him. "There's a sofa here. I'm sure it's much more comfortable than the one in the Archives."_

_His jaw clenched as his gaze fell to her hand she hadn't even realized she'd placed on his chest. Nervously bringing it back to herself, she twisted it with her other against her belly. "Forgive me. It's simply difficult not to touch you." The urge to fall to the floor and weep crossed her mind, but she ignored it, instead attempting to steel herself against his rejection once more._

_However, all thought of weeping left her when his hand slipped beneath her chin to pull her gaze to his. What she found was a sad smile gracing his beautiful face. "Which is exactly why I cannot stay here. To be in the same building as you and not_ be _with you. It's not something I have the strength to endure, Katrina."_

_"I understand," she whispered, willing herself not to show him any vulnerability._

_"No," he replied, stepping closer to her. "I don't believe you do." His hand slid from her chin to her cheek, then down her neck. "Like you, I have to remind myself not to touch you, despite the overwhelming urge to do so." He sighed, "My desire to be with you..."_

_"Then be with me," she pled, this time placing both of her hands to his chest. "What would be so wrong with us doing what we've done hundreds of times in the past?"_

_His hands laid over hers and pulled them to rest in the empty space between them. "Because it would be too easy to do that." He shook his head. "And our love has never been something that was simple and easy. I don't want it reduced to a single act of flesh with no emotion behind it."_

_Wishing that wasn't the answer he gave, but nodding anyway, she sucked in a shaky breath. "You're right. We should wait."_

_His head dropped to catch her gaze again and he smiled. "I will return for you tomorrow, then?"_

_Conjuring her most reassuring smile, she nodded. "Yes, I'll be waiting."_

_A heavy breath fell from him as he chuckled and reached for the door. "Alright then."_

_Before he stepped off the porch, she hurried to call for him. "Ichabod?" He turned with a questioning glance. "Just so you know...there would be nothing singular about the acts we partook in, or the acts that we will again partake in."_

_It seemed to take him a moment before his eyes widened, but before he could give response, she closed the door with a grin. Biting her lip, she thought about how flustered he must be, no doubt still standing exactly where she left him. With that thought, her mind ventured to the next day._

As she placed her hand to the door knob, she could hear him rambling on about something or other to Abbie as she laughed. Pulling it open, her gaze found them in the center of the room with Abbie chuckling at something he was saying as she adjusted his collar. With a deep breath, she fully stepped into the room, feeling completely at the mercy of his opinion.

"I'm ready," she said, to which his head whipped around, his gaze meeting hers.

To say his next movement would determine her heart's feeling would be putting it lightly. He held so much of her heart in his hand. She couldn't begin to recall how many time she'd dressed or fixed her hair with him in mind. Even when she'd been engaged to Abraham, who'd dressed her in the most ridiculously expensive dresses and jewelry he could find, she had always thought of Ichabod. What he would think. If he'd be pleased. If he thought she looked as ridiculous as she felt at times.

His eyes left hers, his mouth slightly open, to fall down her form. His gaze caused her to shift, twisting her hands nervously in front of her.

"Is this appropriate attire?" she asked, after a moment of his stare.

He blinked rapidly as if confused by her question, but no words came from his opening and closing mouth.

"What he's trying and falling to say is that you look great," Abbie offered with a look at him. "Now, who's ready to go look at pictures of dead people and listen to Crane ramble on about the injustice of our history books?"

Ichabod rolled his eyes with a huff before stepping toward her. When he was right in front of her, he took her twisting hands in his and kissed one. "You look beautiful, Katrina."

The bright smile that overtook her simply could not be contained as his fingers rubbed over her own. "So do you," she answered with a chuckle.

His resulting eye roll was expected as he turned to Abbie with a nod before pulling her toward the door, delighting her in the small fact that he'd threaded their fingers together in the process.

* * *

"I don't think I need to tell you two to behave," Abbie said as they departed her vehicle.

Ichabod turned with a huff. "I'm perfectly capable of controlling myself Leftenant. Thank you."

"Mhm," Abbie mumbled. "Let's not forget about the last time you were in a museum...Steve."

Ichabod's answering uncomfortable shift let her know she was missing the inside joke as he'd obviously done something worthy of his lack of response, something that was a rarity for him.

"Yes, well," he said, clearing his throat. "Thank you for the transportation, Leftenant. We shall meet you when we're finished."

With that, he reached for her hand and began tugging her inside. Casting Abbie a last grateful look, she found the woman to be shaking her head in quiet amusement.

Upon entering the building, she fixed Ichabod with a smile. "So, we're here."

His eyes found hers and softened from his previously brooding one. "We are."

After a moment, she tore her gaze from his as someone burst into a fit of laughter across the room.

Ichabod held out his arm to her. "Shall we?"

Practically grinning, she accepted and placed her arm through his.

* * *

"Can you believe the inaccuracies we are witnessing? Especially concerning Franklin? That..."

Since they'd arrived, Ichabod had found one seeming atrocity after another which had her more than a little amused. Her husband had always been passionate, but put him in a room like this and it flared to even higher levels.

"I always thought Franklin was interesting," she offered, knowing it was going to irk him further.

His gaze flashed to hers in incredulity. "Interesting? The man was a swine. He enjoyed torturing me in every way he could think of. I swear, if I had been forced to see him disrobed one more time..."

She shrugged with a smile. "He and I got along just fine."

A huff fell from him as he glared at a picture of the man. "Only because he flirted with you as if you were completely for the taking."

She chuckled at his exasperation. "He only did that to rile you up, which he always succeeded in doing, and apparently is still succeeding at doing even from the grave."

His glare deepened. "He did not."

Eyes widening, she exclaimed, "Ichabod, you nearly tore the man's head from his shoulders that time he kissed the back of my hand in greeting."

He glanced to her in shock. "I haven't the slightest idea as to what you're referring, Katrina. I think the centuries have distorted your memory."

"Oh," she laughed. "Just because I don't have an eidetic memory like you doesn't mean I don't recall the way you acted that night."

He fully turned to her with a frown. "I acted just as I always do. Like a gentleman."

Regarding him with disbelief, she raised an eyebrow. "There was nothing gentlemanly about the way you took me in that coat closet."

His own eyes widened. "Now, you're just imagining things," he muttered.

"Imag-" she shook her head and stepped closer to him. "Am I imagining the way you repeated over and over how I was yours and only yours as you held me to that wall and loved me from behind?"

He shifted uncomfortably before pointing to another painting across the room. "Oh, look. Washington!"

Shaking her head, she allowed him to pull her along until they came to a stop before the large painting where he smiled proudly. "Now _this_ was a man of honor."

Nodding even as her gaze focused on her husband rather than the painting, she smiled. "I love that memory," she whispered.

His eyes found her and softened, his fingers tightening around hers. "As do I."

She finally turned to the painting, but found it to be lacking in holding her attention. "I hope we can be like that again." She sighed. "Free to simply love one another without a care for what anyone else thinks."

A moment passed before his fingers were beneath her chin and tugging her face to his. "We will."

The sincerity in his eyes made her stomach twinge. "Do you really think so? That we can have the future we always wanted? Even after all that's happened?"

He stepped closer to her as his gaze fell to the hand he had threaded through her own and was now bringing up between them. "I think it's going to take time and a great deal of patience. We still have a great many things to discuss. Jeremy and Abraham will no doubt continue to be a problem that will make the journey that much more difficult."

She nodded in understanding.

"But," he continued, a smile coming to his face. "If we can find a way to get past all of that, which is a considerable if...then I have no doubt we will have everything we ever wanted."

"Everything? Even..." she whispered, wanting more than anything to cling to some form of hope that he still wanted what she did.

He smiled again as he leaned his forehead to hers. "There's nothing I want more than to have a family with you, my love. A child." He tightened his fingers in hers. "Nothing."

She was about to respond when a scream came from the next room, pulling both of their attentions.

* * *

Pushing the cabin door open, she made her way to the table and collapsed into a chair.

"Well, that made for an interesting outing."

She raised her gaze to Ichabod's tired one before sighing, "Quite."

As she began tugging her shoes off of her feet, Abbie entered with a yawn. "I am exhausted. This day has me all out of sorts. I can't wait to fall into my big bed and sleep."

Ichabod raised an eyebrow. "Sleep? I'm not sure I want to fall asleep after the things I witnessed this night."

Abbie nodded. "We have a lot to deal with tomorrow. Irving returning. Paperwork on a killer who's been living in a painting for two centuries..."

"How do you think the Captain managed his miraculous resurrection?"

Ichabod's question left them all in thought, but no one voiced an opinion as no one really had one.

After a moment, Abbie reached for the door. "I'll wait for you in the car, Crane. Don't linger too long, though. I'm about to pass out."

At Abbie's words, her gaze fell to her hands in her lap. With all the memories she'd experienced today, all the forced flashbacks, she, too, was exhausted, but she wasn't quite ready to be parted from Ichabod.

"Actually, Leftenant," he began slowly. "I believe I'll remain here." Her eyes jerked to his which were focused on her. "If that's alright with you?"

At a loss for words and not entirely sure she wasn't imagining it, she frowned. "I'm sorry?"

He shifted nervously. "The sofa is still available, is it not?" He whirled to Abbie, who was now frowning as well. "It would save you the burden of delivering me to the archives. I worry it'll take too much time and you're exhausted after all."

Abbie stared at him a moment before giving a firm nod. "Yeah, you know, I think I might not make it those extra thirty seconds it would take to drop you off on my way home."

Ichabod shifted again, this time dropping his gaze from both of them.

As she glanced between them, a small smile came to her face. "I don't mind at all." She looked to Abbie knowingly. "We wouldn't want Abigail to go out of her way."

Abbie chuckled before turning to the door. "I'll see you two Crane's tomorrow."

With that departure, she now found herself alone with the darting gaze of her husband. After a time of silence had passed, she spoke, "Well, I suppose we should each get some rest while it's available to us."

His gaze finally settled on her. "Yes, we should."

As he didn't move, she pushed herself to her feet. "If you follow me, I'll give you a blanket and pillow."

Upon their entering the room, she grabbed him a pillow from the bed and turned to find him staring at her. When their eyes caught, he cleared his throat and gestured to the bathroom. "I just need..."

"Of course," she whispered as he disappeared behind the door.

When it clicked in place, she sighed and set the pillow down at the end of the bed before turning to begin pulling out something to sleep in. After a few minutes, he emerged once more, stripped down to his shirt and trousers, his hair loose and free. At the sight of him so comfortable and practically begging to be touched, she felt her heart skip a beat.

"I uhm..." She picked up the pillow and handed it to him. "Here."

He smiled in gratitude as he accepted. "Thank you. I appreciate you allowing me to stay."

She shrugged as if it were nothing. "It's your cabin."

"Well, actually, it's not, but..." He trailed off and nodded before backing away. "Goodnight, then."

Nodding, she glanced down to her hands. "Goodnight."

When she heard his footsteps receding, she called out, "Ichabod?"

He turned to her in question. "Yes?"

"I really enjoyed our day."

A frown crossed his face. "We fought a serial killer and were nearly killed ourselves."

Shrugging, she gave a small smile. "But we did it together. There were no secrets and I was openly myself with you...as a witch. We trusted in each other and had a victory. It's not something we've ever done before, just the two of us."

Instead of a smile, his frown deepened. "Katrina...you're not jealous of Abbie, are you?"

Her eyes widened. "No, that's not..." Bringing a hand to her head, she sighed as she attempted to find the words. "It's not that I'm jealous of the time you spend with her. I understand your bond, your need for each other. But..." She shook her head. "Sometimes, every now and then...it's just nice to have you to myself as well. We're so rarely alone anymore and...it was just a good day." When he didn't respond, she turned and began fiddling with her dress. "I'm very tired. We should get some sleep."

After a moment, the door quietly closed and she released a shaky breath before reaching behind her for the zipper of her dress. Instead of meeting the metal, however, she met skin, causing her to jump.

"Let me help you," came his whisper as his fingers found her zipper and began tugging it down. Her heart felt as though it would pound right out of her chest, especially when his knuckles brushed the skin of her back, pulling a slight gasp from her.

When the zipper was at its end, his hand left her until she felt them beneath the straps of her dress. Practically holding her breath as he slid the thin material from her shoulders, she shivered when his lips pressed against her bare shoulder. As her dress fell to the floor, she turned her head slightly to catch his eyes and found him staring at her in sincerity.

Hand lifted to her cheek, he whispered, "I love you, Katrina."

Releasing an unsteady breath, she said softly, "I love you, too."

As their declaration settled between them, he wrapped his arms around her, securing them over her bare breasts, and settled his head in the crook of her neck and shoulder. "I enjoyed our day as well."

His warm breath on her skin sent another shiver through her as a smile came to her face and she rested her hand over his arms. They stood that way for a few moments before he pulled away from her and stepped back. When she turned to him in confusion at the loss of contact, she found him pulling his shirt over his head. Upon his dropping it to the floor and his hand falling to the button of his trousers, she questioned, "I thought we were waiting, that you didn't want it to be just about the flesh."

As he shoved his trousers down his legs, freeing himself from all clothing, he answered, "I don't think that would be possible." He stepped close to her, his hands finding her waist and sliding up her back to pull her chest into his. The sensations that coursed through her at the feel of so much of their skin touching for the first time in nearly two hundred and thirty three years was nearly overwhelming. Forehead leaning against hers, he whispered, "Our love is too profound to be reduced to such." His mouth found her cheek and began caressing her smooth skin. "I have loved you for so long."

Hands lifting to weave through his hair, she smiled. "I know. I've known since I stumbled across you in that tavern all those years ago after we met in Boston."

He chuckled against her, his warm breath warming her face. "I thought my world had shattered when Abraham walked up and put his arm around you."

With a sigh, she pulled back to catch his eyes. Sliding a hand to his cheek, she whispered, "Mine did as well. I knew even then that you had the power to steal my heart away if I allowed you to. What had been a secure future with Abraham suddenly became akin to the feeling of a chain around my neck, tugging me away from what I really wanted...needed."

His eyes danced over her face. "Promise me you won't hurt me again, Katrina."

Pain shot through her as her eyes fell. "If you promise the same. I cannot bear to go on the way we have been any longer. I feel like I'm steadily suffocating without you," she whispered as her fingers danced over the scar running along his chest. "Knowing we're in each other's reach, but still so far apart breaks my heart. I know I've made mistakes, but I just wish you could understand that I'm so lost and grasping for the only things I know for certain. Everything I knew is gone and I just...I don't know who I am or where I belong anymore, Ichabod."

After a moment he spoke, "Here's something you can know for certain." His head dipped until he was catching her eyes. "I promise to honor you and protect you...in sickness and in health. I promise to love you until my dying breath." A smile came to his face. "Well, my permanently dying breath."

Laughing lightly, she took in his sincere eyes. "Do you mean that?"

"With all my heart."

Nodding in thought, she finally whispered, "I promise my heart, mind, and body to you in this life and the next. For an eternity, I will be yours and _only_ yours, my darling Ichabod Crane."

His smile brightened as he once again leaned his forehead to hers. "Alright, then," he whispered, dropping his hands back to her waist to begin backing her to the bed. As she laid back with him following to hover over her, she released a shaky, yet relieved breath. When he settled at her side, he tenderly brushed her hair aside and leaned down to her ear. In a soft whisper, he said, "Let us give life to our marriage."


End file.
